


Dancing Helps

by zombiechick



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-23
Updated: 2014-01-24
Packaged: 2018-01-09 18:03:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1149134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zombiechick/pseuds/zombiechick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I really like the idea of sweet domestic scenes between these two characters. This will be snippets of that intimacy, with dancing as a central theme, that we Lizzington shippers crave.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Closing their most recent case had put Red in an extremely good mood Lizzie observed as the older man strode quickly to the stereo, humming to himself. He hadn't even stopped to take off his jacket and hat when they entered his apartment but declared happily, “We need music.”

Lizzie chuckled and threw a look over her shoulder at Dembe, “Someone is pleased with himself,” she commented.

Red answered her laughter with his own, “I have been after that particular, if you'll excuse the vernacular, son of a bitch for almost twenty years, Lizzie; I'm pleased with us.” Lizzie recognized the opening strains of a song by Nina Simone coming from the stereo and she smiled as Red quickly shed his coat and hat. “Dance with me, Lizzie,” Red crooned as he stepped toward her and placed a hand lightly on her waist while the other scooped up her hand, lacing his fingers through hers. 

Lizzie had no choice but to place her free hand on his shoulder, “Uh, okay,” she stuttered.

Red spun her around deftly and spoke over Lizzie's shoulder to Dembe, “Take the night off, my friend; you've most assuredly earned it.” 

Lizzie sensed Dembe leave the room and, unbidden, her hand tightened on Red's shoulder. 'We're alone,' Lizzie thought to herself.

Red continued to dance with her, pulling her even closer and singing quietly in her ear, “I could stand some lovin', oh so bad. I feel so funny, I feel so sad.”

Lizzie licked at her suddenly dry lips. Being in Red's arms, his scent surrounding her, was overwhelming. Instead, she tried to concentrate on the golden light of early evening that shone through the window. The first song ended and another began; once again the throaty songstress crooned about heartache and desire, “and sex,” Lizzie murmured.

She felt the rumble of laughter in Red's chest as he was pressed tightly against her, “I'm sorry?” he asked still chuckling. “Would you like to clarify that last remark, Agent Keen?”


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have noticed that the writers give us about one minute of sweet interaction between Red and Lizzie- just enough to make us want to beg for more. I like to prolong those sweet moments in my fic which is just what I'm doing here. I love the idea of Red and Lizzie dancing alone in his apartment, quiet music playing in the background, just holding each other and enjoying the peace. The song that Red quoted in the first chapter was “Need Some Sugar in My Bowl”- I'm learning to play it on my guitar and it seems very Red and Lizzie to me- most likely because I'm totally obsessed with this pairing currently. ;) This is most likely moving toward smut- most of my fic does.

Lizzie was grateful that Red couldn't see her face as she was blushing bright red, “No,” she said quietly, her answer muffled against his shoulder.

Red shivered inwardly at the feel of Lizzie's warm breath through the material of his shirt and vest, “Sounded like the tail end of an intriguing line of thought,” he mused before placing a soft kiss atop Lizzie's head. He smiled to himself when the gesture made her tighten her hold on his shoulder and hand.

As he slid his hand under her jacket, Red's thumb brushed softly against Lizzie's waist, keeping time with the music. Lizzie rubbed her cheek against the silk material that made up Red's vest and sighed quietly, “We're still dancing,” she observed as a third song began.

“Yes,” Red agreed as he moved them toward the shaft of sunlight that poured in through the window. He smiled at the way it brought out highlights of red and gold in Lizzie's hair.

She extricated her hand from his and placed it on his other shoulder. Red's hands settled on Lizzie's waist, their heat practically branding her skin through her blouse. “Why are we still dancing?” Lizzie asked, aware of the husky note that had crept into her voice.

Red practically purred as Lizzie laid her head on his shoulder, her arms securely around his neck, her fingers idly stroking the short hairs at its base. “Because my life is full of violence and stress, Lizzie. But here I have the music and the setting sun and,” he paused and finished quietly, “I have you; it helps.”


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red seems the type to have a vinyl collection; especially of old jazz and R&B music. Referencing episode (can't remember which one) where Lizzie visits Red at one of his apartments that was owned by an unpublished, prolific, author that Red had known. Red says that he loves the apartment for the view and shares a glass of homemade alcohol with Lizzie. I know this one is ridiculously short but it's working up to more.

Chapter Three

“That's flattering,” Lizzie murmured against the skin of Red's neck, “especially given what I know about your everyday life; the level of stress you're subjected to.” Red's hands circled around behind Lizzie to stroke the small of her back sending tingling sensations up her spine. She gasped at the tremor that ran through her muscles, causing her nipples to tighten, and Lizzie to step even closer to Red until there wasn't a sliver of daylight between them. 

“Flattery is what I use on other people, Elizabeth,” Red answered her as his lips brushed against her forehead, his nose buried in her hair, “with you, I speak the truth.”

Lizzie's eyes widened as she heard a note of vulnerability enter Red's voice. She couldn't help but feel pleased at his words; at times, truth seemed like an impossibility in her life, “Thank you,” she said simply. The last strains of the song they had been dancing to faded quietly and Lizzie heard the needle lift from the record. Her eyes caught sight of the small clock on the mantel and she stepped back slightly, “I have to go; I have a dinner reservation with T...”

“Of course,” Red cut her off before she could utter her husband's name. “Thank you for dancing with me, Lizzie.” His hands slid from around her waist and Red took a step back. He caught one of Lizzie's hands in his own and brought it to his mouth; his lips ghosted over her knuckles as he gazed into her eyes. Lizzie gasped quietly at the raw intimacy of the gesture. The last light from the setting sun cast a glow upon Lizzie's hair and cheek and Red smiled quietly, “I didn't think it was possible to improve on this view; on occasion, I don't mind being wrong.”


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place after The Cyprus Agency. This last episode had me yelling at the screen. lol That's a good sign, right? Usually I'm all about the AU because my fandoms rarely give me what I really want. But, it seemed like this would be a relatively likely scene after The Cyprus Agency. No smut yet- just total mushiness.

Chapter Four

 

Lizzie waited nearly a week after Tom had moved to the motel before going to Red. She had wanted to see him that first night but was sure she would end up crying all over him. She was worried that he would be smug when she told him, that she would get the Raymond Reddington version of “I told you so” though from his lips it probably would have sounded like bitter poetry.

She was pleasantly surprised when, upon entering his home, taking off her jacket, and standing in their dance space, he responded by quickly setting his book on the coffee table and striding to the stereo. The soft tones of Nina Simone singing “I Put a Spell on You” washed over Lizzie and she closed her eyes in defeat. She felt her body awaken as Red took her in his arms, pulling her against him and beginning to sway. 

When Lizzie felt the tears threatening, she swallowed hard and stepped closer to Red to lay her head on his shoulder. She didn't want to cry, she just wanted to dance and not think about...anything for a few minutes, “You're right; it does help,” she said quietly.

Red brushed his cheek against Lizzie's hair and rubbed his thumb gently against the scar that graced her palm, “I'm glad.”

The last time Red had held her like this, Lizzie's body had responded wantonly. She'd thought about the encounter numerous times over the last several weeks, sighing his name as the waves of pleasure washed over her and then slumping against herself feeling more alone than she ever had. There was a tingling warmth, an awareness, this time; a feeling that Lizzie always experienced when Red touched her tenderly. The desire simmered below the surface but the predominant feeling was one of security and a feeling of rightness. “I'm all alone Red,” Lizzie whispered against the soft material of his shirt, the tip of her nose unconsciously brushing against the wiry hair that protruded from his open collar.

Red didn't respond immediately, instead choosing to turn Lizzie slowly in a move that had her pressed even closer against him when completed, “You're a very perceptive and intelligent woman, Lizzie,” Red assured her as his hand slid around behind her to rub her back. “But, in this, you're wrong.”

“But,” Lizzie sighed, “I told him and...he left.”

Red grunted quietly, his mouth tightening as he fought against his great dislike for Lizzie's husband; even in his own thoughts he chose not to use Tom's name, “You have yourself, Lizzie, your convictions and your powerful need for justice. And,” he paused and rubbed his cheek against her hair once again, “you have me.”

This time Lizzie couldn't hold back the small sob that escaped from between her clenched lips. She attempted to hold back the tears by gripping tightly to Red's shirt and filling her senses with his presence. 

Red did not comment on the spots of wetness that he felt soaking into his shirt front. He merely continued to stroke Lizzie's back and nuzzle her hair as he did his damnedest to convey just how much he loved her.


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why wasn't there an episode this last week? I swear NBC is staffed by sadists! I was trying to keep this sort of canon-ish (or as close as my PWP ever gets) by following along with the episodes but I have lost patience. So, this happens...whenever. Short and sweet and tease, tease, tease. lol

In the short time that Lizzie had worked with Red, she had posed as his, girlfriend seemed such a juvenile term, companion several times. They had never gone into great depth with her back story; they hadn't needed to. In the world that Raymond Reddington moved in, people knew not to ask too many unnecessary questions. On occasion, when they met with a contact over dinner, Red and Lizzie were obligated to keep up the pretense of their being an item by sitting close to each other at dinner, holding hands, a quick peck on the cheek, sharing intimate glances, or sharing a dance.

It had never really meant anything before. Or at least, Lizzie chalked up the shivers of awareness that she had experienced while Red held her to simple physical attraction. This time, however, when he held his hand out to her, and led her onto the small dance floor in the dimly lit and intimate restaurant, she feared her knees might give out. She was conscious of every inch of his palm that caressed her own as he moved her in a small circle to position her against him. Liz gasped quietly when Red's hand settled at the base of her spine; skin against skin due to the low cut of her gown.

He held her close enough that she was aware of a myriad of scents; his aftershave, the wine he'd been drinking, the faintest spice of a cigar he must have smoked before picking her up for their rendezvous. His thumb stroked her fingers that were entwined with his, dipped lower to caress her wrist where he could feel the rapid staccato of her pulse. Red leaned in closer to brush his cheek against Lizzie's jawline whispering in her ear, “You look so lovely tonight, Elizabeth.”

She smiled, noting the beginnings of stubble on his cheek; Lizzie enjoyed the contrast between it and the smooth tones in Red's voice. Not wanting to be outdone, she allowed her lips to rest against his ear as she whispered back, “You chose the gown.” She thought she sensed the smallest of shivers in the muscles of his neck beneath her fingers that were currently tracing over his skin and up into the short cropped hairs at the base of his head.

Red pulled her to him, his hold on her lower back tightening, his fingers splaying out so that he was touching as much of her bare skin as he was able, “I do have impeccable taste,” he chuckled. “I must admit that my mind, as of late, has been quite preoccupied with yours.”

Lizzie faltered slightly, her brow furrowing, “My...?”

Red hummed, “I'm not referring to your choice of wardrobe, Lizzie.” She didn't answer him but Red could feel how her body strained against him, her fingernails lightly scoring his neck; the heat from the blush that suffused her skin was like a brand against his jaw. “That first night we danced together, your heat, your scent, invaded my nostrils for hours after you had left. I was loathe to take a shower the next morning; I fancied that I could still smell you on my skin.”

“Red,” Lizzie murmured huskily.

“I know I was most likely fooling myself,” he conceded as the tip of his nose nuzzled the warm skin behind Lizzie's ear, “but, still, the thought of the taste, the sweetness of you, against my tongue has been most preoccupying.”

Lizzie swore quietly and moved away from Red though she continued to dance with him.

Afraid he may have offended her, Red murmured, “Lizzie?”  
“He's here; our contact just walked in,” Lizzie explained and swore again.

Red chuckled, “Your disappointment is flattering, Sweetheart. Well, back to work.” He released her, though he retained possession of her hand, and led her back to their table where an expectant man awaited them.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place shortly after this week's episode but before Tom has returned from his teachers conference. My gods that guy goes to a lot of conferences! This fic might go on forever- I don't see an end in sight, just little snippets of Red and Lizzie dancing and trading banter.

When the house seemed especially empty to Lizzie, she would turn on the radio rather than plugging in her iPod; the fact that she was a member of an audience made the music seem like a shared event. The strains of Motown, 'Something by The Miracles,' she thought, greeted her ears from the complex speaker system that Tom had installed in the kitchen the previous summer. Lizzie smiled to herself; taking in the atmosphere, the fading light of late afternoon filtering in to the space, the low strains of R&B tickling at her ears. Seeming to come to a decision, Lizzie did a little spin in her stockinged feet and shimmied toward the hall closet.

Roderick had actually been very accommodating when Lizzie showed up at the haberdashery she had previously only visited with Red. He showed no hint of surprise, or judgment, when she asked to see the last hat that Red had purchased. The marone Bellagio fedora had been flown in from Italy especially for this particular shop. Roderick was able to guess Lizzie's hat size and wrapped it in a lovely hat box, telling her he hoped she enjoyed her purchase and to, “visit them again soon.” 

Lizzie was half afraid that she would bump into Red on her way out of the shop. But her trip home had been uneventful. She had stashed the hat box in the back of the top shelf in the hallway closet, knowing it was a place that Tom would, most likely, never be poking around. Despite the fact that she'd felt extremely nervous, and a bit ridiculous, about the purchase, it had sat in the closet for several weeks; she'd practically forgotten all about it until that night. 

Lizzie placed the hat box on the kitchen table and grinning, still feeling as though she was being watched, lifted the lid. The beige tissue paper was moved aside to reveal a beautifully sculpted fedora, the felt brushed softly to accentuate the form of the brim. Lizzie sighed as she removed the hat from its box. Her fingers softly caressing, she brought it to her nose to inhale the scent. Though she was, of course, completely unsurprised, she gave a small sound of displeasure at the newness of it; she wanted it to smell like Red.

Shrugging, she placed the hat on her head and did another spin in her stocking feet. Aretha Franklin's cover of “I Say a Little Prayer for You” started up on the radio as she shimmied into the kitchen. Lizzie moved her head so that the hat shifted down lower on her brow, making her look slightly menacing as she retrieved a wine glass from the cupboard. She continued to dance around the kitchen as she retrieved a bottle opener and a bottle of chilled Riesling out of the fridge. 

Glass of wine poured, Lizzie leaned against the island in the kitchen and sipped the cool liquid. A knock at the front door startled her slightly; she wasn't expecting anyone and Tom wasn't due back until the following afternoon. She sat down the glass of wine and stalked down the hallway, pausing to retrieve the gun she kept stashed in a drawer in the sideboard by the coat rack. She noted that the DJ's low voice came over the radio announcing the evening Blues Hour; the mellow tones of John Coltrane followed her to the door. Tucking the gun in the back of her jeans, just in case it was someone completely innocent like Girl Scouts, she glanced out the window next to the front door and froze. She recognized that silhouette, complete with the hat that sat atop its head.

She blushed as she went to open the door, quietly trying to calm herself, “Red said there weren't any bugs or cameras left in the place,” she reminded herself, “so there's no way he could know you were just dancing around in here.” It was to Red's credit that his presence affected Lizzie so completely that she forgot she was still wearing the hat.

Once the door was opened, Red immediately began to speak, “Lizzie, I was just in the neighborhood and wondering if...” He stopped talking when he noted a very familiar looking hat perched atop the lovely young agent's head. Lizzie was privy to a sight that few had ever witnessed; Red was speechless.

When Lizzie realized what Red was gaping at, she blushed brightly and, with a practiced flick to the brim, sent the fedora tumbling over her head to roll down her back where she caught it. Keeping the hat behind her back, she cleared her throat and attempted to ask calmly, “Wondering what, Red?”

Red chuckled as he stepped inside and closed the door behind him, “What was that?”

Lizzie bit her lower lip to keep from giggling, “What was what?” she asked as she backed down the hallway toward the closet; planning on tossing the hat through the door before Red could reach her.

He stepped forward quickly, much quicker than Lizzie had ever seen him move before, and took ahold of her upper arms in order to spin her around. The move was helped by the polished hardwood floors and the fact that she wore only socks. Retrieving the hat, which Lizzie gave up rather easily, not wanting to damage it, he stepped around in front of her, “This,” he clarified, holding up the hat. “It's lovely,” he complimented her, “Roderick?”

Lizzie felt herself blush further and nodded her head.

Red's brow furrowed, “It's too small for Tom.”

Lizzie sighed and threw up her hands. She retrieved the gun from her waistband, stowing it back in the drawer before turning around to return to the kitchen.

“And I already have one just like it,” Red continued as he followed her down the hall, “so it couldn't possibly be a gift for me,” he winked at Lizzie as he placed the hat back in its box on the kitchen table.

“I just...,” Lizzie trailed off and grabbed her glass of wine, taking a slow sip for inspiration. The alcohol splashed over her tongue and warmed her but did little to help her with an excuse. “I wanted to wear your hat but since I didn't want to ask...it seemed...,” Lizzie shrugged her shoulders and grinned as she took another sip of wine.

Red's nostrils flared with awareness as an image of Lizzie, in his bed, naked save for his fedora, flashed before his mind's eye. He shrugged out of his coat and hung it on the back of a chair at the kitchen table before stalking toward her, his eyes holding her gaze over the rim of the wine glass. Pinching the crease at the top of his own fedora and raising it off his head, he set it gently on Lizzie's head. “All you had to do was ask, Sweetheart.”

Lizzie blushed and set her wine glass back on the counter beside her. She set the hat more securely on her head, noting the warmth emanating from its depths and the effluvium that wafted from the brim; Red's aftershave and shampoo and a myriad of other scents invaded her nostrils. “What were you wondering, Red?”

He grinned, musing over the many, many, things that he was wondering just then about Lizzie; fueled by the sight of her wearing his hat. The strains of “A Love Supreme Part 1” by John Coltrane flowed into the room and Red raised his arms, gesturing with the fingers of his right hand for Lizzie to come to him. She complied, feeling a warmth in the pit of her stomach that had nothing to do with the wine, at being summoned by Red. 

Once she was safely in his arms, Red's hand resting at the small of her back while the fingers of his other hand laced through Lizzie's slim digits to lead her into the open space between the kitchen and the living room he answered her, “I was in the neighborhood and wondering if you would care to dance.”

“We didn't get to dance much at the Embassy,” Lizzie mused as her hand traveled up over Red's arm and shoulder before settling at the base of his neck, her fingers stroking through the short hairs.

Red purred at the sensations her fingers were creating along his scalp, “You look lovely in red, Lizzie.”

“You didn't say so at the time,” Lizzie countered, “you did compliment my accessories; usually a sure sign that a man is simply being polite.” Lizzie bit her lip, realizing that she was revealing how disappointed she'd been at not receiving Red's attentions that night. “Though you're right, it is a very nice clutch,” she amended lamely.

Red pulled her to him so that she was pressed tightly against his chest. He nuzzled at Lizzie's neck, burying his nose in her hair, “A lovely clutch,” he agreed, “though I prefer your embrace.”

Lizzie snorted with laughter at his cheesy word play even as she let him pull her closer, both of his arms now wrapped around her waist as her other hand slid up his chest to join its mate at the base of Red's neck. Lizzie placed a soft kiss on Red's throat just below his jaw, “So, do I get to keep your hat?” she asked and he could feel her smile against his skin.

Red moaned quietly as Lizzie's teeth nipped at his flesh, her tongue smoothing the hurt as she swayed against him, keeping beat to the soft jazz that played over them, giving them an excuse to move against each other. “We'll see.”


End file.
